


Caught (Pieces of a Story Remix)

by kaydeefalls



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-14
Updated: 2007-04-14
Packaged: 2017-10-14 04:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaydeefalls/pseuds/kaydeefalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Malfoys never run (except when they do), Potter hates Draco (except when he doesn't), and Draco has no choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caught (Pieces of a Story Remix)

**Author's Note:**

> Remix of Leyenn's "Catch Me If You Can".

1\. _"Malfoys never_ run _."_

He crouched in the narrow space between the shrubbery and the rough brick wall, wondering if he could make himself disappear by sheer force of will. If he were old enough to have his wand, he thought resentfully, he probably _would_ be able to disappear.

Of course, if he had a wand, he could probably just fix the stupid vase himself.

Mother had warned him time and time again to be careful and not just dash willy-nilly through the library. And time and time again, Draco had ignored her. He was a Malfoy, after all. He would inherit all those boring antiques himself, and _he_ didn't care what happened to them.

His mother cared, though. And more frighteningly, so did his father. And now he'd broken an antique vase, and he didn't know how to put it back together. So he'd run.

Maybe if he stayed hidden long enough, everyone would just forget about it. Or maybe no one would ever even notice the broken vase at all. It was ugly, anyway.

When the shrubbery concealing him parted evenly with a snippy little _swish_ , Draco knew all was lost.

"I don't think I like that spell," he told his father sulkily.

"I don't think I like seeing valuable Ming dynasty vases lying shattered on my library floor," Father replied smoothly. "Yet it seems we must both suffer through."

"It wasn't my fault!" Draco insisted. "It was...it was Dobby! I _told_ him to be careful, but he just went and--"

Father raised an eyebrow. "If it was Dobby, then why are you hiding?"

Draco thought fast. "Because I knew you'd blame me," he complained. "Everyone always blames me for everything." Which wasn't even remotely accurate, but he figured it was worth a try.

"You are ten years old," Father said, and his voice was suddenly cold. "You will be attending Hogwarts in less than a year. You cannot continue to behave like a _child_ , Draco. You are a Malfoy. Malfoys take responsibility for their actions."

"I know," Draco replied, hanging his head. He wasn't a child, after all. "But I didn't want to get into trouble."

"Then you should not have _run_ ," his father said. "If you run, then everyone can see you have something to run _from_." He polished the silver head of his cane offhandedly with his sleeve. "If you run, then you can only be caught."

Draco forced himself to meet his father's eyes.

"There are better ways to handle such things, after all," Father continued, and smiled.

*

2\. _"You still can't look a pixie in the eye."_

It wasn't that he was _scared_ , Draco told himself afterward. They were just _pixies_ , after all. It wasn't like they could really _do_ anything to him. Except pull his hair and bite his fingers and thousands of other unpleasant little things. It wasn't _fear_ , and it wasn't _running_ , it was just...prudent.

And anyway, Lockhart had run first.

Hours later, he nearly ran into Potter trudging down a corridor. Potter's hair was more mussed than usual, he robes were all askew, and his hands were covered in scratches and bitemarks. Draco smirked at him. "How was class today, Potter?"

Potter glared at him. "Delightful. You ought to lose a hundred House points for bailing out early."

"Malfoys do not clean up other peoples' messes," Draco retorted haughtily. "On the other hand, Potters apparently enjoy mucking out stables in their spare time."

"Potters just aren't scared to do a little work sometimes," Potter said. "We don't run screaming at the sight of a couple of _pixies_."

"I'm not scared of _anything_ ," Draco said, affronted. "And I didn't _run_."

"No, you _scampered_." Potter grinned. "Like a little scared pixie yourself."

Draco glowered menacingly. Or tried to, anyway.

"I mean, those pixies! Terrifying monstrous creatures!" Potter taunted. "They might, I dunno, _scratch_ you. Or bare those horrible huge teeth! The mere thought of them, really, is almost too much to bear. Are you feeling faint? Shall I fetch you the Malfoy smelling salts?"

"I didn't _faint_ , and I didn't _run_ ," Draco snarled, and shoved Potter up against the wall.

Something odd and dark flashed in Potter's eyes. "Ooh, I'm so scared. I'm gonna piss myself. Is that what you did, Malfoy, when you saw the pixies? Piss yourself?"

Draco almost punched him in the face, but reconsidered. It was a really dumb argument, and if a professor or prefect or someone showed up, Draco would get into a lot of trouble. Everyone always assumed it was his fault, even when Potter clearly deserved it. "Shut up," Draco said instead, and stalked away, feeling entirely unsatisfied with the whole business.

*

3\. _"Malfoy loyalty is never questioned."_

Christmas dinner at Malfoy Manor was an elegant affair. A select gathering of the best families in England were in attendance, and Draco was always given a new set of dress robes to wear. This year's were dark green velvet; he thought he looked rather dashing, if he did say so himself.

"And how is the Triwizard Tournament coming along?" one of his mother's friends asked him, and he couldn't keep from scowling. "I hear the Potter boy is doing unexpectedly well so far."

"Yes, the rotten cheat," Draco muttered. His mother frowned at him from across the table.

Later, during an interval between courses, Mother took him aside. "I won't have you sulking at the dinner table," she told him.

"Sorry, Mother," he said, not meaning it. "It's just that everyone always talks about Potter, and how wonderful he is. He isn't, you know, not a bit. He cheats. He shouldn't even be _in_ the Tournament."

"Of course he shouldn't," she said smoothly. "But he is. And so long as he appears to be in favor, you shan't say a word against him. Not in this company. I will not allow you to disgrace our family with your silly schoolboy spitefulness."

"Which is not to say you should openly _support_ the boy," Father said, startling Draco. He hadn't heard him come up behind them. "But there's a difference between childish shows of temper and subtle disapproval. There are ways of getting your point across without debasing yourself, Draco. You should learn to use them, and wisely. Everyone will know where the Malfoys stand soon enough."

Draco, nodding in agreement, nearly missed the flash of worry in his mother's eyes, swiftly quenched.

*

4\. _"I have better things to concern me now."_

The first time he realized he might fancy Harry Potter was at the beginning of fifth year. He snuck out to watch a Gryffindor Quidditch practice in the hopes of learning any new weaknesses Slytherin might exploit, but after an hour he realized that he was actually only noticing how Potter's thighs tightened on the broom, the set of his jaw when he focused on a particularly tricky play, the way the sunlight glinted off his dark hair. It wasn't very useful information at all, and Draco left feeling rather disgusted with himself.

The first time he kissed Harry Potter was in the Quidditch changing rooms after Potter and the Weasley twin terrors had been thrown off the team. Potter wanted to kill Draco. Draco wanted to gloat. How he'd wound up shoved up against a wall with Potter's tongue down his throat -- well, he never rightly figured that out. It didn't make him stop hating Potter, and it didn't keep Potter from taking out that pretty little Ravenclaw Seeker, but it certainly made life a little more interesting.

The first time he fucked Harry Potter was on Valentine's Day, nauseatingly enough. Apparently the date with Chang hadn't gone so well. He didn't ask Potter how he'd managed to get into the Slytherin dormitory, and Potter didn't ask if Draco _liked_ him or anything pithy like that. "About damn time," Draco said, and Potter said, "Shut up," and then they didn't say anything else for a while.

The first time he betrayed Harry Potter was when he saw him and Granger leading Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest. Draco immediately used the fireplace in Umbridge's office to Floo his father. His father was most grateful for the information.

And the first time he met the Dark Lord was four weeks after Harry Potter had gotten his father sent to Azkaban. Draco had his priorities straight, after all.

*

5\. _"I will always come when my master calls."_

He was barely sixteen years old. His father was in Azkaban. His mother was in danger. His relatives thought he was doing the right thing. His friends thought he was very brave. Dumbledore was a biased, spiteful old man. The Dark Lord did not request, he ordered.

He was a Malfoy.

He made the choice because there was no choice at all.

*

6\. _"You want to be caught."_

Potter clearly suspected something. He also clearly wanted revenge for the bit of fun Draco'd had with him on the Hogwarts Express. And he clearly didn't know the first thing about true malice, because he just wound up fucking Draco against a wall again.

Draco returned the favor. Violent sex was just as painful as a punch in the face, after all, and far more satisfying.

It sort of became a habit, and Draco came to expect the sudden pressure on his bed, the hoarse whisper casting a silencing charm, the press of lips and teeth against his collarbone in something that wasn't quite a bite, wasn't quite a kiss.

And Potter still clearly didn't _actually_ know what Draco was up to, which suited Draco just fine. Mostly. Except when he found himself bent over a toilet in a mostly-abandoned bathroom, retching up nothing, sick with self-loathing after seeing what the poisoned necklace had done to Katie Bell.

He willed Potter to find him, but Harry never came.

*

7\. _"Catch me, then. If you can."_

They don't really talk about these things, except when they do. Harry says Voldemort's name outright and prods Draco for information he knows Draco won't actually give him, and Draco makes remarks about Malfoy honor as though Harry could possibly understand what he's talking about. Harry says _you ran_ but not _I wanted to run, too_ and Draco says _I will always come when my master calls_ but not _I can never be on your side, Potter_.

Harry says _I'd have to come after you_ but not _please don't run next time_.

Draco says _you could never catch me_ but not _it's not running if you don't have a choice_.

Harry says _perhaps I'd have to get nasty_ but not _I want you_.

And Draco says _catch me, then, if you can_ so that he doesn't have to admit _I've already been caught_.


End file.
